I have anxiety.

 

Most people don’t really know this about me.

They perceive me as a generally outgoing, extroverted, adventurous woman. They see me as youthful, playful, and fearless.

 

And while I am many of those things (except extroverted, I am 100% an introvert) I can assure you, I am also human. I have fears, and sometimes my fears bubble into the underlying buzz of low grade anxiety, welling up to erupt every now and then.

 

I inherited anxiety from my primary caregiver, who managed their own anxiety and mental health through me – a recipe for a multitude of interesting nervous system patterns, developing well before I had much agency in the matter.

The thing about patterns in our nervous system, is that they are informational pathways, and they are not wrong or bad – they just are.

Over many many years, I’ve learned that by trying to “cope” or “manage” or otherwise “control” anxiety, has actually led me directly to the Tower card eventually – existential crisis, meltdown, things fall apart.

That’s because we aren’t meant to “manage” our biological responses!

Imagine feeling like you have to pee, so you wait and wait and wait and because it’s just not convenient, you just hold it until you literally pee yourself. Sounds ridiculous in most circumstances, doesn’t it?

But yet we do this all the time with other biological needs and responses – which all of our nervous system patterns are.

The more we “manage” and try to “control” the information our body receives and is just naturally (and intelligently) trying to move through us, the more stagnant and harmful it can be. It can literally putrefy.

What would happen if we were to hold it every time we had to pee? We’d definitely be signing ourselves up for a bladder infection, UTI, or worse. I’m not clear on the long term effects of holding it, but I’m certain that it’s not healthy.

 

Controlling our nervous system into pacification is an illusion – and illusion that does not respect the intelligence of our system.

 

Have you ever heard that phrase “you have to feel it to heal it”?

Yeah, it’s like the 12 Step programs – the first thing you must do is admit where you are.

 

For a while now, I’ve been feeling the low grade, bubbling anxiety of my nervous system. I’ve been feeling really tired all of the time – another sign that I’ve been running anxiety. Running anxiety is like jogging on a treadmill that you can’t get off of. You’re running slow enough that you don’t notice it’s load on your system at first, but after days and weeks and months of not being able to get off, you have to fully let yourself feel the effects before realizing “I’m fucking tired all of the time“. Of course you are, you’ve been on a treadmill 24/7 for a while now. That takes resources. That takes energy.

 

Actually that might be the perfect analogy for my experience of “managing” anxiety – it’s like trying to convince yourself you’re not really working that hard and trying to get all zen-like, meanwhile while still running.

The absurdity!

The self-gaslighing!

 

What I do instead.

First off, let me be clear that I don’t experience anxiety as a “problem” in my system. Yes, it does have an impact, but I don’t pathologize it as wrong and something I need to get rid of or “deal” with.

I see it as valid information.

I see it as something I need to really fully let myself feel.

I see it as intelligent information.

I see it as my body’s way of showing me something important.

 

Even if the tiger isn’t physically present or logically obvious, our experiencing the tiger about to eat us is very much real and must be honoured as such.

For me right now, it’s my finances. No amount of meditating and mindfulness work is going to magically “fix” my feeling mountains of anxiety over my financial situation. I am being stretched further than I ever have before and for much longer than ever before.

My body is literally screaming “danger, danger!”.

I must accept, fully. I must be fully willing to feel just how much danger and uncertainty my system feels. Because it’s very much real. The body does not lie.

 

I fully feel.

Then I listen.

What do I need to support my body?

Rest.

I need to sleep.

Nutrition.

I need to nourish myself.

Unplug.

I need to turn off my phone, and slow down.

I need to really see and feel myself for what my body is experiencing right now – what do I need to run a marathon? How can I nourish myself? How can I let my system discharge in ways that are supportive and embody what my nervous system is experiencing?

What do I need to do right now?

Scream?

Run?

Surf?

Sleep?

Write it out?

Dance it out?

Move?

Sing?

Growl?

 

In my previous post about my Tower moments and the Tower card, I talked about how I’m ok with things falling apart. I’ve since pulled the Tower card another two times this week, two days in a row.

Things are falling apart.

And it seems to be crumbling from my centre outward.

 

What I didn’t mention in my previous post was that often these Tower moments coincide with the anxiety volcano. There is a certain intelligence in how our systems can actually capitalize on these patterns and energies and help us surrender to what needs to fall apart, to what needs to crumble and break and be rebuilt, sturdier, more solid, the next time around.

 

If I don’t fully let myself feel, if I don’t fully let myself really listen to what’s trying to come through, it’s like fighting a massive ocean current that is trying to move me.

I may not understand where they current is taking me, but in my experience, resistance is futile.

So I don’t disrespect my anxiety by trying to control it.

I try my best to surrender to it fully as much as I can.

Once moment at a time.